“Another message?” Grant asked.
“I think so.”
Stacy frowned. “What do you mean, another message?”
Tyler hadn’t told her about the first message when he received it because he didn’t want to raise false hopes that his father might be able to free Carol.
“You were surprised yesterday when I said he wasn’t going down without a fight,” he said to Stacy.
“No, I thought you were nuts.”
Tyler brought up the previous day’s video. “Look at his hands. He sent me a message.”
Stacy peered at the video, and then her eyes went wide. “Sign language.”
“If you weren’t looking for it, you’d think he was just straining against the cuffs.”
“What did he say yesterday?”
“He couldn’t do full signs because they require motion, so he just formed letters. Two sets. The first two letters were M and K. I think he was saying ‘I’m okay.’”
“And the second set?”
“F and M.”
Stacy thought about it for a moment and then laughed. “Eff ’em?”
“Right. His way of saying that he was planning to fight back.”
“What did he say today?”
Tyler played the second video again. “Today’s message is a little harder to figure out. Again two sets of letters. Actually, the first are letters and the second are numbers.”
“Maybe he’s trying to tell you how many kidnappers there are,” Stacy said.
“I doubt it. The numbers are nine and zero. Ninety.”
“And the letters?”
“S and R.”
“SR 90?” Stacy clapped her hands together in triumph. “State Road 90! He’s telling you where he is!”
Tyler didn’t share her enthusiasm. “Possibly. But that wouldn’t help us narrow down the search very much. There must be hundreds of miles of State Road 90s in the US. It’s got to be something else.”
“I’ll see what Google comes up with,” Grant said as he tapped on his own laptop. His face fell when he saw the results. “This is not good.”
“Why?” Tyler said.
“Because the first result that comes up for SR 90 is an entry for strontium-90.”
Tyler shuddered as a chill ran up his spine. Given that his father used to head up the agency responsible for rooting out weapons of mass destruction, it wasn’t a huge leap to guess that strontium-90 was what he meant. Grant rubbed his forehead as if he were massaging a headache.
“What’s strontium-90?” Stacy asked.
“It’s a highly radioactive isotope,” Tyler said. “My father could be saying that Orr has gotten hold of some Sr-90.”
“How radioactive is it?”
“Sr-90 is one of the key constituents of the radioactive dust from the Chernobyl disaster.”
“Where could Orr get his hands on something like that?”
“Radioactive materials are available on the black market,” Grant said. “It says here that Sr-90 is found in spent nuclear fuel. It’s also used as a power source in old Soviet thermal generators.”
“And if Orr has some,” Tyler said, “he could be planning to make a dirty bomb.”
“Which is what?” Stacy asked.
“It’s also called a radiological weapon. A poor man’s nuclear bomb. You set off a conventional bomb along with some radioactive material and it coats everything around it with fallout dust. The radiation could be dangerous enough to render a major city uninhabitable for decades. For some reason, Orr may be in possession of a weapon of mass destruction.”
“And both my sister and your father were kidnapped in—” A gasp caught in Stacy’s throat. “Oh, God.”
Tyler slowly nodded. The last time anyone had seen Sherman and Carol was in Washington, DC.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Tyler wished he hadn’t eaten so much for dinner. The idea that Orr was building a WMD was turning his stomach.
“I hate to bring this up,” Stacy said, “but maybe we should reconsider calling the FBI now.”
“And tell them what?” Tyler said.
“That Jordan Orr has his hands on strontium-90.”
“Does he?”
“You just said he did.”
“That’s what I say. You said it could be a state highway, which it also could be.”
“Or an address,” Grant said. “Or someone’s initials. Or any one of a hundred other things.”
“Then there’s the question of why Orr would want a dirty bomb. If he’s planning to blackmail the US government, he wouldn’t need us for that.”
“Maybe he wants to nuke the Midas chamber once he finds it,” Grant said. “It almost worked for Goldfinger.” When Stacy gave him a confused look, he continued, “You know, the James Bond movie where the villain Goldfinger is going to set off an atomic bomb inside Fort Knox.”
“But Goldfinger already had a stockpile of gold that would rise in value once the nuke went off,” Tyler said. “I don’t think Orr has a stack of gold lying around that he wants to increase in value.”
“But what if talking to the FBI could lead to finding Carol and your dad?” Stacy said.
“Let’s think about what would happen if we got the FBI involved right now. I’m not saying it’s the wrong thing to do, but we have to be smarter than Orr about this. Grant, you play the FBI.”
“Okay, but I’m not putting on a suit.”
Tyler got up and paced. “I call you up and tell you that my father and Stacy’s sister have been kidnapped.”
“When were they kidnapped?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“And you’re just calling now? From London?”
“We were worried about Orr killing them.”
“And you’re coming forward now because …?” Grant asked.
“Because I have new information that the kidnappers may have an unknown quantity of strontium-90.”
“What’s your evidence?”
“My father sent us a message via sign language. I have the video.”
“Maybe he’s sending you his location. Why jump to the conclusion that it’s strontium-90?”
“My father is a retired general who specialized in tracking threats from radioactive materials.”
Grant shook Tyler’s hand. “Thank you, Dr. Locke. We’ll start our manhunt for this Jordan Orr and alert every agency in the country that there is the possible threat of a nuke. By the way, we’ll need to tap your phones and have you come back to the US.”
Tyler stopped and pointed at Grant. “And now Orr finds out he’s being investigated and kills Carol and my father.”
“Or maybe he sets off his radiological weapon prematurely,” Grant said. “Or he doesn’t set it off, because we can’t be sure he has one. Right now it’s just a hunch.”
Stacy threw up her hands in defeat. “Okay, okay, okay. You’ve made your point. We don’t call the FBI. So what’s the alternative? We’re just going to go along with Orr’s demands?”
“No,” Tyler said. “If he really has a WMD and my father has seen it, Orr will never let him live whether or not we can lead him to the treasure.”
“And Carol?”
When Tyler didn’t say anything, Stacy folded her arms and crossed to the window.
“I know it looks hopeless,” he said, “but the good news is that if we can get the geolabe back, we can stop playing defense and go on offense.”
“Offense?” she said.
“The next time we see Orr, we won’t let him get away.”
“What about your dad and Stacy’s sister?” Grant said.
Tyler took a deep breath. “We trade with Orr. His life for theirs. Then we bring in the FBI.”
“Let’s just tell him we’ve solved Archimedes’ puzzle and meet him in Naples,” Stacy said. “Why are we going through all this?”
“Because I’m sure Orr has some way of knowing if we’re lying about where the entry to the tunnel system is. He wouldn’t go to all th
is trouble without that kind of safeguard. We have to show up holding some aces because I’m sure he’d call our bluff.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“The plan is to figure out a way to get the geolabe back from Cavano. Let’s listen to the audio file from Cavano’s office.”
Tyler played it back. The voices on the phone were muffled, and they faded in and out as people walked around the room. He just hoped Stacy could catch enough of it to do them some good.
She peered intently at the computer as she jotted down notes. Tyler admired how she was handling all of this, never complaining, focusing completely on the job at hand. But he could see that the strain was beginning to wear on her. He’d seen it before with soldiers in his command who were suddenly thrust into battle. They wanted to stay strong for their buddies, but the haunted stares and creased brows betrayed their fears.
That’s why he and Grant had joked around when things got too grim on their tour of combat duty. Some of their subordinates appreciated it, but a few found it off-putting. Those were the guys Tyler had to worry about the most. So far, Stacy didn’t worry him.
After a couple of playbacks, Stacy stopped the audio. “Here’s what I could understand. After Cavano finished swearing about the mess you made of her office, a man said, ‘Do you still want to leave on the six-twenty tomorrow?’ Cavano said, ‘No, move my reservation to the eight-thirty. Just make sure the Ferrari is ready to go in Brussels by the time I get there. I’ll call Rödel in the morning and tell him I may not reach Boerst until four. The meeting shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes.’” Stacy looked up from her notes. “Any idea what all that means?”
“Apparently she’s flying to Brussels,” Tyler said. “But you said earlier she was going to Munich.”
“Maybe she’s stopping in Brussels on the way.”
“I’ll see if I can find the flight,” Grant said as he tapped on the keyboard. After a few minutes he said, “Not a flight. Eurostar. The high-speed Chunnel train. Leaves from St. Pancras.”
“So she must be taking the train to Brussels, then driving to Munich from there,” Tyler said. “That’s why the geolabe is in the trunk. The car is being shipped ahead to meet her in Brussels. What about Boerst and Rödel?”
Grant checked again. “I can’t find Rödel, but Boerst is a German commercial real-estate brokerage headquartered in Munich. Rödel might work there.”
“We’ll find out tomorrow. Anything else about the brokerage?”
“Says they specialize in international transactions.” Grant scrolled down the page. “Boring … boring … boring … Wait a second. This is cool. Their new headquarters building in the heart of Munich features a state-of-the-art robotic parking garage.”
“A what?” Stacy said.
Tyler got a distant look in his eye. “You drive into a bay and park your car on a movable platform. You get out, take your ticket, and the platform automatically slides out of sight to an empty spot inside the structure. No valet ever touches the car. The purpose is to maximize space in crowded areas like city centers.”
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Grant said.
Tyler nodded. “If she leaves the geolabe in the car during her meeting, Munich might be the best opportunity to get it.”
“Do we leave tonight or tomorrow?” Grant asked.
“It’s been a long day,” Tyler said. “Let’s get some sleep and clear our heads.” He looked at Stacy. “You, too. You can try to interpret the tablet in the morning.”
Tyler and Grant stood, but Stacy didn’t turn for her room.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” she said.
Grant yawned. “I’ll call our pilot and tell him to be ready at seven. Should get us into Munich before nine. Night.” He closed the bedroom door behind him.
Stacy and Tyler sat down. He locked his eyes on hers. Every time she started to speak, the words caught in her throat. Tyler finally interrupted the silence.
“We’re going to catch Orr,” he said. “I promise.”
She gave him a thin smile. “You don’t have to promise. You can’t, really.”
“I know.”
She paused again before speaking. “I was going to say I’ve never been through anything like this before, but I realized how stupid that would sound.”
“That’s okay. I haven’t been through anything like this, either.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been in the Army. You’ve faced death before.”
“So have you.”
“My parents, yeah. But this is different.”
“Yes, it is.”
She held his gaze. “I just wanted you to know that Carol was going to law school because she wanted to become a prosecutor.”
“If she’s anything like you, she’ll make a damn fine one.”
“What I mean is, she wanted to catch the bad guys. She would never forgive me if we let Orr use a nuclear weapon. Even if she … ” Her voice trailed off with the scenario she couldn’t utter.
“My father would feel the same way. But it won’t come to that.”
“I won’t ask how you know that. But thanks for saying it.”
She stood to leave, and Tyler did the same. Before she went into her room, she surprised Tyler and gave him a hug, her hands tight against his back. She barely came up to his shoulder, and he held her head gently to his chest. He soaked in the comforting warmth of her body against his. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how much he needed it. Before Tyler realized it, he was tenderly caressing her hair.
They stayed like that for a minute, neither wanting to let go, before Stacy silently pulled away and went into her room. Tyler was acutely aware that he was now alone.
He was also exhausted, but before he could go to bed he had one call to make.
“Hey, Tyler,” Aiden said. “Was Stacy able to translate the audio I sent?”
“She was. We now have an idea where the geolabe will be, but we need the tracker location to make sure it’s where we think it is. Did our guys have any luck deciphering the signals that the geolabe was emitting?”
“I’m able to help you there. The recordings you made in the lab ended up being comprehensive enough for them to decode the tracking signal. It’s broadcasting GPS coordinates every thirty seconds. Off-the-shelf technology. I’ll send you the URL where you can get the updates.”
“Will it alert Orr that we’re tapping his feed?”
“You know me better than that. I’ve cloned the Web page where he gets the tracker feed. He’ll never know.”
“Outstanding work.”
“Even better, I’ve got some info on your new lady friend, Gia Cavano.”
Tyler had texted her name to Aiden in the hope that he could track down some information on her. Tyler wanted to know what kind of woman he was dealing with. He was already convinced that she was as dangerous as Orr had warned them.
“What about her?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Why?”
“Because I found her name using some creative and not technically legal searching of the Interpol database. Apparently, they think she’s an up-and-comer in the Camorra. I found pictures of what she supposedly did to some of her enemies. The worst involved a meat grinder. The authorities haven’t been able to pin anything on her, though.”
Aiden was right. Tyler didn’t like it.
“What’s the Camorra?” he asked, though he thought he knew the answer.
“The Camorra is to the Naples area what the Cosa Nostra is to Sicily, but more vicious. You’re being chased by the Italian Mafia.”
FRIDAY:
LA CAMORRISTA
TWENTY-NINE
Seated in the Business Premier car of the Eurostar high-speed train, Gia Cavano ate a light breakfast while her three bodyguards kept watch on the other passengers around her. As the French countryside flashed past the window at 186 miles per hour, she occasionally twirled the knobs on the device Tyler Locke had stowed in his vehicle
. The dials spun in a seemingly random fashion; she could divine no purpose for their movement.
It was a beautiful piece of engineering, both in design and in construction. Perhaps it was something Locke had built. Once she had the Midas treasure, she would track him down and ask him before she killed him.
Cavano had considered flying to Munich directly from London, but her new toy was too tempting to ignore. Ever since she had acquired the Ferrari 458 Italia from a German buyer who’d been higher on the waiting list, she had been itching to unleash it on the autobahn, the only freeway system in the world that had no speed limits. The specifications listed the Ferrari’s top end at 202 miles per hour, and she had every intention of reaching it.
As punishment for letting Tyler Locke and Stacy Benedict escape, Pietro had been relegated to cargo duty and sent ahead with the truck carrying the Ferrari and a BMW M5 sedan on an overnight trip to Brussels. He would join the other three in the BMW and try to keep up with her on the drive to Munich, which normally took seven hours. If it took them more than four hours, it would be because of traffic.
She caught an older businessman looking at her, perhaps longing to spice up his Thursday morning by striking up a conversation about the unique object on the table in front of her, but he wouldn’t dare approach with her cousins all around her. One of the benefits of having an intimidating family. They kept paunchy executives like him from making pathetic advances.
Tyler Locke, on the other hand, was just the kind of man who excited her. Tough, handsome, intelligent, resourceful. Ungraceful on a horse, but that could be corrected. Not many men stood up to her the way he did, and that was a quality hard to come by for a woman in her position.
For six years she’d been the head of the Cavano family, growing it from a small player in the Naples Camorra. Few women, especially one in her thirties, headed families in the Camorra. The macho society of the Mafia rarely tolerated it, but she’d maintained her position through cunning, using brutality when it was necessary to make a point. Her late husband, Antonio, had been murdered by the capo of the rival Mezzotta family for infringing on their concrete-supply business. In response, Gia Cavano ordered the deaths of every member of the Mezzotta clan, and as a result of her careful planning, most of them were now stinking up a landfill outside San Marco. The rest of the corpses had been dumped in strategic locations to show that she was now in charge.
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